


Warm

by Cocoa_Dots



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternative title for up to this point: domestic bliss with Grillby, Cuddling, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Grillbert me boy, I haven't written in a while so I'm kinda trying to find my style again, LOTS of cuddling thus far lol, M/M, Multi, One Shot Collection, Other, Romance, bear with me if it's a little inconsistent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23936989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cocoa_Dots/pseuds/Cocoa_Dots
Summary: A collection of one shots featuring Grillby and the reader. Most feature an established relationship so far, but the beginnings of each chapter will specify.For the time being, this is going to be the place I dump all of my Grillby/Reader ideas. I may eventually write a longer slow-burn Grillby/Reader.. But I haven't decided yet. Let me know if you'd like that! None of these stories will be directly related to each other unless specified in the chapter title!All of these posts are up on my tumblr as well, where you can go read (and suggest!!!!) some Grillbert luv. Check it out!https://outthefryingpan.tumblr.com/Thanks!!
Relationships: Grillby (Undertale)/Reader, Grillby (Undertale)/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 59





	1. No Need

**Author's Note:**

> By now, "movie night" was really just an excuse to cuddle for a prolonged period of time (with snacks).
> 
> (Established relationship)

It had definitely been over 5 minutes. Keeping your bathroom visit under that time limit wasn’t a matter of life and death, but you did tell Grillby it would only be that long. ‘Or less!’ You’d yelled after yourself. In retrospect, you don’t know why you’d been in such a rush. Movie nights with Grillby were always casual, in fact they usually weren’t even about the movie being watched. They were just a nice, relaxing way to spend time together. And also to eat snacks. Regardless, you inadvertently stalled the event with your trip to the restroom.

It wasn’t your fault for taking so long! You got a text message practically the moment you closed the door behind you, and made the mistake of reading it and getting caught in a conversation. That took a bit over ten minutes. After that you washed your hands, opened the door to leave, and only then remembered to take a glance back at the mirror. You found that your hair was a little messier than you would typically approve of, so you turned back into the bathroom to finger-comb through it.

The door was significantly ajar now, but of course, there came a knock. Knowing Grillby, he probably would have knocked even if the door were wide open. Just in case.

“Come in.” You called over your shoulder. As expected, Grillby’s head popped in through the doorway, reflected on the mirror you were fixing your hair in. It was a nice contrast against the dark brown wood that made up the walls and door of his apartment, you couldn’t help but notice. And really, you rarely could help but notice.

“You’ve been in here a while.” He started with a playful lilt, entering the relatively small room.

“So much longer than 5 minutes that you had to come hunt me down?” You teasingly retorted, pausing in your effort to smooth your surprisingly wild hair. Comfortably, he came up behind you and took the lock of hair you had up for inspection between his own warm fingers. He hummed briefly, voice low and calm.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I just needed some toilet paper. Spilled a bit of hummus by the couch, and we’re out of paper towels.” He explained with a small smile. As an absentminded act of affection, he began to slowly wind that lock of your hair around his finger, and without even realizing you slightly tilted your head toward this action. These were some of your favorite days... Nothing to do, nowhere to be, all work out of the way, just a calm, peaceful atmosphere to share with your love. You sighed pleasantly, a small noise, but one that made his smile increase just a bit. The two of you stared into the mirror at each other, shifting into a new position that had his arm around your waist and his chin atop your head, still idly twirling your hair around his finger. It was hard not to lean back into him; feeling the warmth emanating from his fiery form was like being wrapped in a blanket fresh out the dryer, but with arms that wanted to hug you. You were always eager to hug them back.

The sight of your hair curled around his finger gave you an idea, one that turned your relaxed smile into a grin of amusement. You watched as he turned his head slightly to the side to match your gaze, now looking directly at his hand. 

“Y’know, I was thinking of finally getting a curling iron or something like that...” You started, obviously leading him into finishing the thought.

“Why would you do that?” He asked, reflecting your entertained tone. “You know all you need to do is ask me.” Grillby paused, musing for a moment. “That being said, I am but a humble bartender, so I can’t promise it’ll be salon-quality.” You laughed. Joke aside, it was true, he’d only attempted to curl or straighten your hair a few times before. Initially he’d been too afraid to accidentally burn your scalp or scorch your hair clean off, but you’d shown him how, and he quickly became comfortable. Although, he did tend to curl further from your scalp than you would yourself. It didn’t matter though, you mostly just liked having him close to you, and you had a sneaking suspicion he enjoyed seeing what twists and kinks he could make out of your hair.

The conversation didn’t need to continue, Grillby knew what you were aiming for. He moved his chin off your head and adjusted his posture, then took the lock of hair already in his hand and re-positioned it, now holding it out from your head and carefully placing his finger at the end. You watched him move in the mirror, wrapping your hair slowly and neatly around his finger until it rested about 2 inches from your scalp. Then and only then did he start raising its temperature. His free hand moved upward, losing itself in your tresses as well, simply keeping itself busy while he waited for the section he was working on to be set. Once it had been long enough, he hummed once more, lowering the temperature of his finger back to normal and gently releasing your hair. The warm curl bounced down, looking very out of place against the backdrop of your otherwise unaltered hair, but still nice. He went to grab another equal amount of hair, but stopped himself as if realizing something. You felt so tranquil that you hardly noticed.

“Why don’t we continue this in the living room? There isn’t a lot of it, but I don’t want that hummus to get crusty.” He cringed a bit at the thought of scraping hardened hummus off the floor. You chuckled and nodded, reaching over to grab some toilet paper off the wall. 

Exiting the bathroom with Grillby in tow, you bee-lined for the living room, locating the very small amount of hummus that’d gotten on the floor. In a few swift movements, you crouched, wiped up the spot, and turned to head for the nearest trash can. You were already on your way there by the time the elemental entered the living room after you, and you heard him spout a quick, “thank you” in your direction. When you returned, Grillby was on the couch and patting the spot to his right. You sat eagerly, watching as he pressed play, then set the remote down next to your snack-spread. His arms opened to make room for you and you snuggled up next to him. The opening credits began just as you’d settled in, and it didn’t surprise you when you felt his hand in your hair again. You twisted slightly, turning your back toward him to grant him better access, and his attention shifted from the movie onscreen to carefully crafting curls in your hair once more. They didn’t come out very well-formed as he refrained from using the proper amount of heat (as careful as he was, he would still hate to risk getting distracted and burning you), but that couldn’t have mattered less to you.

Fast forward 30 minutes into the movie, and the “curling” devolved into simply combing his fingers through your hair, warm digits stroking your scalp and the back of your neck in a way that would have probably put you to sleep, had it been a little later in the evening. These motions drew out for a bit longer until you heard Grillby let out a content sigh, patting your head gently. That was your signal that he was likely going to stop, but that didn’t bother you, not so long as you could remain close. He moved so that his arm could wrap around your waist and pull you closer still. You took the opportunity to rest your head on his warm shoulder, and he crossed one of his legs over the other, leaning toward you.

This is the position you both remained in silently for the rest of the movie. As usual, you were almost asleep by the end. He didn’t mind. Once again, the movie really wasn't the important thing about movie night.

As the outro music began to play, you perked up only slightly with a soft, "hmm?", eyes blearily trained on the screen. This earned a quiet, endeared laugh from him, after which he promptly leaned in and pressed his face into the crown of your head, leaving a gentle kiss there. His lips lingered for a moment as he enjoyed the comfortable position you sat in together, until he pulled away and sat up to stretch. You copied his action, and then noticed how his smile grew as he observed you.

"What?" You questioned, tilting your head.

Grillby's expression became a bit sheepish. "Oh, I just did a terrible job."

Your eyes closed thanks to your stretching grin. "It's OK."


	2. Cold Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 ! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺,, 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨,, 𝘪𝘵'𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨,, 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘺. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳,, 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺,, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨,, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘵 (𝘱𝘧𝘧𝘵) 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘣𝘺 ! 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴,, 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵. 𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺. :)"
> 
> I’m a sucker for that too! I very much enjoy this suggestion, thank you! Send more any time u like :^> This is set on the surface! Most of the pieces I write will be set this way unless stated otherwise.
> 
> (Established Relationship)

You can’t believe how late it is when you finally begin walking home. Pulling your phone out and pressing the home button tells you it’s only a few minutes away from midnight. Your feet ache, and you want nothing more than to just crawl into bed.

Luckily for you, it isn’t a long walk to Grillby’s from where you are, maybe a little over 5 minutes, but you really hadn’t anticipated it being this cold and blustery out. Then again, you didn’t anticipate your boss holding you back as late as she did either, so you use that as your excuse for being jacket-less. In reality, it probably wouldn’t have been much warmer out even if you _did_ leave on time, but you’re just going to ignore that. You unceremoniously shove your phone back into your pocket and quicken your pace, holding your hands together in an attempt to conserve some of your already waning warmth. 

In hopes of distraction, you let your mind begin to wander. Initially your prerogative is “think warm thoughts”, but of course that only leads you to thinking of Grillby. It’s inevitable. He’s the warmest thing you can think of.

You think back to when he first opened up his bar on the surface, and how he would stay open all night, every night. The new influx of customers quickly overwhelmed him, and so he changed his hours to accommodate a new goal of his, one he’d adopted upon reaching the surface. He called it the, “not work myself to death” rule. You, nothing more than a new friend at the time, had laughed at that. It was one of the first jokes he’d made around you. You laugh again now, thinking about how horrible a job he’s done in sticking to his goal. _Maybe it’s just unrealistic for him_ , you muse.

No, that isn’t fair. He drastically changed his hours when he first got here. Underground, he’d been open every day from noon to 3AM. How he’d managed a _15 hour work day_ every single day all by himself was absolutely beyond you, but he told you that down there, he really didn’t have much else to do. 

In a more private setting, after the two of you had grown closer, he confessed that when he lived underground, he felt a sense of obligation to be open as often as possible, to act as a sort of home base for those monsters who were struggling, or just needed someone to help stave off their loneliness. 

Here on the surface, things are better! But they’re a lot different too, a lot busier. And so, with some kind pushing from his friends, he had ultimately decided not only to tighten his hours, but to hire some help as well.

You consider that to be the start of a deeper relationship blossoming between the two of you. You had offered to wash dishes and help with cleanup, and he gratefully accepted. You started talking more, spending more time together, and... The rest is history, you suppose. 

Now, he takes Sundays off, and closes at 10PM on Mondays. His daily hours are still pretty packed, but he has more servers and kitchen staff to help out with them. 

Suddenly, you blink in surprise at yourself as that reminds you of something.

_Today’s Monday! That means he should have closed a while ago!_

You sent him a text earlier when you found out you would be late home and told him not to worry, but you totally forgot that it was possible for you to end up working later than him. That is a rare occurrence. 

Well then! 

You become excited at your findings, but quickly realize they mean that he may be sleeping. Rats... You need to be quiet coming in, then.

A chatter sounds in your skull just as the bar comes into view. It isn’t quite snowing out, but the biting, billowing wind is strong enough to drain most of the heat from you. Your fingers feel numb as they blindly wiggle around in your pocket, looking for your keys even though you’re still a little ways away from the front door. By the time you reach it, you’re putting in a pretty significant amount of effort to minimize your shivering and get it unlocked. It’s situations like these that make you thankful to only have a few separate keys to keep track of on your key ring.

The door itself is pretty new, but still creaks lightly as you push it open. Then, you almost lose your grip on the knob when a particularly strong gust of wind shoves you in through the front door. You stumble forward. 

Startled as you are, it doesn’t take you long to recover, close the door firmly behind you, and lock it with a huff. You’re just glad no one is around to have seen your little blunder. Hand still on the door, you sigh out your relief. Grillby would _definitely_ be alerted by the door swinging open and slamming into the wall. He’d be alerted if you face-planted into the hardwood flooring, too. 

After taking a moment to smooth yourself out and appreciate the internal temperature of the bar, you glance around the dark room. As you expected, tables and chairs are neat, lights are off, and not a speck of dust can be seen. Sometimes you wonder if Grillby gets off on extreme cleaning. You snicker quietly to yourself.

The rise in temperature is great compared to the freezing nightmare you’d endured outside, but it isn’t anywhere near enough to stop your shivering. So you beeline for the staircase that leads to Grillby’s apartment- or more accurately, your ticket to comfort. It’s a little hard to see, and you nearly trip once on the way up, but the reward you’re met with upon entering is well worth it.

Instantly, you’re flushed with a wave of warmth.

Grillby sits on the couch in the living room that faces the door, knuckle pressed to the side of his mouth and book in hand. Your entrance alerts him, and his head turns up so his eyes can meet yours. They look tired. Yours do too.

He can see you shivering still, and it makes him frown. However, the beginning of a small smile finds its way onto his face when he lifts a hand and waves you over. Both of you know what comes next. You step toward him eagerly. 

Without a word spoken between the two of you, he places the thick, old looking novel down on the table in front of him, and opens himself up to you. Rather than sitting next to him like he had expected, you opt for plopping down directly in his lap, arms around his shoulders and legs on either side of him. He lets out a surprised grunt, but it quickly dissolves into a chuckle as his arms find their way around your midsection. You relish in the warmth they offer.

“You’re cold.” He starts.

“You’re warm.” You reply, though it’s muffled by the fabric of his thin shirt. He hears you despite this, and a fiery brow quirks up. 

“Aren’t I always?” Grillby asks. You can hear the teasing smile in his voice, but nod against him regardless. Thanks to him, you can feel your shivers mostly subside.

“Yea, but I especially appreciate it when it’s freezing out.” Comes your voice once more. Sighing, you feel his arm begin to rub slowly up and down your back, a soothing, sweeping motion that transfers his heat to you even faster. Suddenly comfortable, you’re reminded of how totally exhausted you are.

“I always tell you to bring a coat.” He tries for a chastising tone, but can’t help that it comes out as soft as it does. His voice is just a mumble now, reaching your ears easily despite its low volume. This is in part because he’s taken the liberty of placing his cheek against your head.

“Heh..Yeah...” You concede, burrowing your face further into him. It’s a long moment before you speak again. “I didn’t think you’d be up. Aren’t you tired?” At this question you look up at him as much as your current position will allow, cheek still smooshed into his shoulder.

His response is low, and doesn’t come immediately, which kind of gives you an answer in itself: _Yes._

“Mm... I am..” He confirms your suspicion. A little more quietly, he continues. “But you were still out, and...” The elemental’s head lazily tilts, and the flames constantly spiraling off of it follow the movement. You catch him glance out the window. As if wanting to help illustrate his point, another forceful gust of wind rattles it just slightly.

A little guilt twists your stomach. He always worries, and you should have known he would be waiting. You should’ve fought harder to leave on time. You expect he’s going to finish the thought, but you already know where he’s headed, so you preempt him.

“You didn’t need to wait up for me...” You say softly. 

The response you get is hushed, but still quite matter-of-fact.

“I did. I wanted to. ...I like going to bed with you.” His tone is so simple, so casual, so... sweet. He’s just speaking honestly, yet it affects you so much. The guilt you feel morphs into adoration, and the feeling makes you grin. You’re sure he can feel it against him, but duck your head back down anyway.

“OK.” Your voice is muffled once more. But the smile in it is audible. A short, breathy hum escapes him, the sound like a sleepy little laugh.

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes, wrapped up in each other. The calm rise and fall of his chest slows further, and the surrounding blanket of his warmth cradles you softly. 

You don’t want to, but you eventually have to turn your face to the side. As comfy as he is, it’s a little hard to breathe that way. This movement seems to take him a bit off guard, and rouses him from a drowsiness he’d almost let get the better of him. You feel _and_ hear the deep breath he sucks in as he shifts, bringing himself back off the brink of sleep. He props himself back up against the couch, holding you still as he does. You let out a large yawn, and gently pat his back.

“OK...Time for bed?” You ask quietly. In his sleep-addled state, he can only nod. Without another word, arms around your middle become hands on your waist, and he lifts you off of him and gently places you on the cushion next to him. Slowly he stands, stretching. His flames crackle and pop with the action, and once he’s satisfied he lets out the breath he’d been holding and turns to you with a bright orange hand extended.

For a moment, you consider asking him to carry you. You’re exhausted! But another look at his slightly lopsided posture and barely open eyes reminds you he’s right there with you. So you make do with just grabbing his hand and using it to help pull yourself up. Once you’re on your feet, you two begin a slow stroll to your shared bedroom, and step inside. 

The blinds are drawn, so the only light permeating the darkness you stumble around in to change is Grillby himself. You end up in just your underwear and a big T shirt. Following your lead, he removes his own top and bottoms, leaving himself only in his briefs. 

It’s only about 45 seconds after you enter the room that both of you are crashing into bed. You simply let yourself fall face first. He as usual is a little more graceful about things, gently lifting the covers for himself, and helping you work your way under them too. Your tired body sings in relief as you sink into the mattress, your back to the flaming monster beside you.

Unsatisfied with this, you fight the sleep off for a little longer to wiggle a bit. A questioning hum leaves him, and by the sound of it, he’s working pretty hard to stay awake too. You turn under the covers, trying not to muss them too much and he seems to get the idea. Warm hands land on your sides again as he helps you turn toward him, eager to pull you closer. 

It’s a little brighter when you face him, but that’s never bothered you. Especially not when you’re this worn out. He sighs happily at this change, and his arms circle tightly around you, a hand finding the back of your head and threading itself through your hair. 

His digits comb against your scalp ever so gently, drawing a pleased hum from your closed lips. Not many people know (because how could they? He certainly isn’t going around talking about it), but Grillby is quite a physical being. He had some old hang ups that made it hard for him to embrace that about himself at first, and is polite and accommodating to a fault sometimes, but once you’d made him comfortable enough he gave in to his desire to hold you more often, and hold you closely. 

Once again, you thank the fucking stars for that. Especially on nights like these. Gone is any trace of the icy chill that consumed you earlier. 

Without missing a beat, you place your own hands on his broad back, now giving him the same treatment you had received earlier. He’s larger than you, as most monsters tend to be, but it doesn’t hinder your efforts to gently rub your arm up and down along his spine, fingers only deftly making contact. The hand not doing this splays out across his shoulder blade, then creeps up to rest on the point where his shoulder meets his neck. It wouldn’t be long now for either of you. Your eyelids close, but he looks down at your calm form for a little longer. 

A murmured utterance of your name grips the last inklings of your attention. Your eyes slowly drag themselves open again, and a drowsy, “Hmn..?” escapes you. His voice is almost a whisper when he speaks, leaning down so his mouth is closer to your head.

“I love you...” Grillby breathes out. You smile, and lightly kiss whatever of his skin is closest to your lips. That turns out to be a spot on his chest, right under his collar. There’s a small smooching sound as you pull back.

“...Love you too.” You exhale against him. With the last of his effort, he throws a leg over yours, crooking it to bring you closer still, and fully embrace you.

Those are the last words spoken that night. All that follows is the dull crackling of flames and the soft sound of breathing as you both allow your bodies the rest they’ve been aching for.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for the read, I hope you enjoyed yourself!!!
> 
> Ah... and once more....
> 
> https://outthefryingpan.tumblr.com/ ..... ;)
> 
> Go suggest smth!!
> 
> OK have a nice day!!!!!
> 
> -Dottie :^>


End file.
